Lost in the Movies: jordan peele
Showing posts with label jordan peele. Show all posts
Showing posts with label jordan peele. Show all posts

belated February 2021 Patreon podcasts: LOST IN TWIN PEAKS #25 - Season 2 Episode 17 and LOST IN THE MOVIES #76 - Twin Peaks Cinema: Kings Row / Political Reflections: Pandemic, Protest, Election, Insurrection & The Future (+ Us, Brideshead Revisited, documentaries on the Roosevelts, Reagan, and Lee Atwater, podcast recommendations, listener feedback, Twin Peaks Reflections: Nicky, Dougie, Hide-Out Wallie's, Timber Falls Motel, Milford family/The Secret History & more)


I promised this one - or rather, these ones - a long time ago, but kept postponing. The bonus sections, featuring film capsules, podcast recommendations, political reflections, and listener feedback, were originally planned for the summer but work on Journey Through Twin Peaks videos pushed them back to February (same with my "Twin Peaks Cinema" coverage of the dark small town melodrama Kings Row, starring Ronald Reagan, which I wanted to discuss in conjunction with a documentary on the fortieth president). Then, for complicated reasons, I found myself working on several projects simultaneously while also traveling for the first time since the pandemic began (as well as getting sucked into the drama surrounding the stimulus vote in Congress) - so the "February" podcasts ended up getting published in March.

Hopefully, the material was worth the wait. Kings Row was a particularly fascinating work to dig into between its social drama, psychological motifs, and dark family dynamics; it makes an interesting comparison point not just to Peaks but to other films discussed as "Twin Peaks Cinema" like Peyton Place and Our Town. Only after recording was I reminded that the same director, Sam Wood, helmed both Our Town and Kings Row - so perhaps I'll have more to say on those films from that angle in the future. At one point, I also hoped to offer full "film in focus" reviews on the 2019 horror film Us, Jordan Peele's clever, twisty follow-up to Get Out (which I reviewed a couple years ago), and Brideshead Revisited, the definitive arthouse-TV literary adaptation. Although I ended up shaving them down to extended capsules, I will definitely be revisiting both titles in other mediums.

Elsewhere, listener feedback ranged across numerous aspects of Twin Peaks (from the zeitgeist of its different eras to the collaboration between Lynch and Frost to its impact on multiple video games). Podcast recommendations on historical, cinematic, and political subjects were divided into four mini-episodes with all the accompanying links in the show notes. And my political reflections ended up standing on their own as a ninety-minute episode...unsurprisingly, given that 2020 was arguably the most historically significant year in America since 1968 even if just for the pandemic (which takes up less than ten minutes, although it hovers in the background of everything else).

That's just a small sample of what's in these podcasts; I even had to excise and save more than half the film capsules and the Journey Through Twin Peaks feedback for upcoming episodes. I did get up my belated Lost in Twin Peaks coverage of the comeback (?) episode where the late second season really begins, which was also meant to publish in February. My "March" rewards will be a little late too, but only by days in this case. So stay tuned. Meanwhile, here are links to all the podcasts, followed by a detailed rundown of the content for each one....













Podcast Line-Ups for...

Get Out (The Unseen 2017)


"The Unseen" is a series in which I watch popular films for the first time (reviews contain spoilers). The list, which moves backwards in time, is based on the highest-ranked film I've never seen each year on Letterboxd (as of April 2018). Get Out was #1 for 2017.

The Story: When Chris Washington (Daniel Kaluuya) leaves his comfortable city apartment, decorated with his own arresting black-and-white photographs, for the country estate of his hip girlfriend Rose Armitage (Allison Williams), he is anticipating an awkward weekend. The genial, talented young man is reassured by Rose that her family will be welcoming - goofy perhaps, but well-intentioned. However, something inside of him knows better. She's white. He's black. It shouldn't matter, right? Chris tries to believe this ideal but after his first day at the estate, he's earned the right to shake his head, look Rose in the eye, and sigh, "I told you so." Rose's dad Dean (Bradley Whitford, a knowing reference to the pious liberalism of The West Wing) presents a curious mixture of overbearing gregariousness and barely-concealed resentment. Rose's brother Jeremy (Caleb Landry Jones) is some kind of Salingerian psychopath, whose jovially uncouth manner quickly slides into domineering threats of violence. Rose's mother Missy (Catherine Keeler) mostly scolds the male Armitages with an ominous serenity that suggests she's biding her time. And indeed she is. When she hypnotizes Chris that first night, it's the film's rawest moment of entitled aggression, veering from pushy invitation to rude castigation to shockingly invasive interrogation to...a genuine example of psychic abuse. Stirring a spoon against the edge of a teacup in a horrific take on ASMR, Missy sends Chris to the sunken place.

Chris wakes up in his own bed the next day, but he's been marked as prey and the wolves are circling. At an excruciating yard party, old white folks (and one inquiring Asian) verbally poke and prod Chris, fetishizing him with their racialized "compliments." The black servants and the one black guest are no better, speaking in a stilted manner and behaving awkwardly despite occasional flickers of recognition. Logan King (Lakeith Stanfield), whom we met as Andre Hayworth in the film's opening sequence (he's lost in a suburban neighborhood where a car stalks him and the driver knocks him out before dragging him away), breaks character when a phone-camera light flashes in his eyes. He grabs Chris and screams the film's title as a warning, before being dragged away. From a stilted reminder of racial difference to a more deeply alienating social experience to an increasingly unsettling dive into paranoia, the Get Out weekend finally reaches its destination: confirmation that Chris has been trapped by a racist medical cult that literally strips black people of their humanity, transplanting the brains of wealthy white individuals into the bodies of black ones, whose own consciousness sinks back into a "passenger" role. This is visualized as "the sunken place," a pitch-black void where Chris falls through space, while life unfolds overhead in a distanced screen he's unable to affect.

Even Rose erases her nuanced, empathetic "character" when it's no longer convenient to fool her boyfriend; she becomes a blank, ruthless killer with a closet full of photos of black men and women she entrapped with her "I'm one of the good ones" shtick. One by one, Chris kills his would-be captors, destroying the family as they attempt to destroy him (not only through direct physical attack but through manipulation of his psychological vulnerability: guilt over not protecting his hit-and-run victim mother when he was a little boy). Finally, he's saved by Rod Williams (Lil Rey Howery), a friend whose over-the-top conspiracy theories about a sex cult turn out to be closer to the mark than the skepticism and mockery of "sensible" characters. He's also one of the few other black characters in a film dominated by white people - every single one of whom has malicious intent.

The Context:

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